No, I can't understand shit either. The translation, however, is pretty fucking boss and the story surrounding the song is even more... Boss. I like that word. Boss. Also, long post ahead, just a heads up.
I made a jug of coffee at 3 in the morning and as I carried the steaming jug of black gold, I audibly and nonchalantly said "Just you and me tonight, baby. Just you and me as always".
Putting aside my seemingly unhealthy relationship with coffee, I can remember the first time I had some. Maybe it wasn't the first time per se but the time where it was actually committed to memory. I was seven, I think. We were already in Melaka so that makes sense.
I was in the kitchen with my Mom and she told me to get some condensed milk from the fridge. Then I watched, head on table, trying to stave off sleep as she made her mug of cafe au lait. I really hate that term for some reason but milk coffee is not better in any aspect so fuck it. Digression.
I was curious about the taste but I guess I was still very afraid of my Mom back then (Back then? How about now and forever?). So I waited till she left and I stole a sip and sweet lamenting Lakshmi the taste was fucking divine. I might be romanticizing here again but by Odin's lance that shit was the best fucking sip of any fucking beverage I've ever fucking had.
I've been reminiscing a lot recently. These memories are surprisingly strong and they make a cameo appearance every time my mind is a wee bit idle. Perhaps I just miss my family a wee bit.
*
This might be overdue but I don't really give a paizuri because the caffeine is starting to give an effect. 2013 was a pretty good year overall. I learnt a megafucktonneload from it.
Fiction.
Lets start with the glaringly obvious. I found out the true consequence of living in the fictional world of my creation. I got together with a -uhm- certain past paramour and well, the relationship lasted for all of 3 months which is a large scale improvement if you consider my track record. Thing is, after the first one crashed and burned, I built her a persona in my mind and said persona is near perfect. I elevated her status to something of a demigoddess and I lived with that image for two years, constantly adding to her already impressive list of fictional attributes.
When we got together, this... image was shattered into a billion pieces, obviously. She fell short of my unrealistic expectations and here's the best part: I was so intent on preserving the fictional aspect of her to the point where I convinced myself that with a bit of time I could shape her into it. I constantly and tirelessly shed light on her flaws and forcefully exposed her to things that were so foreign to her. In short, it was no longer a relationship. I reduced it to a scientific experiment. Pavlov 2.0.
And I'm not sorry about it, come to think. Putting aside moral and ethical issues, I was trying to make herself realise her potential, whatever that fucking means. I urges her to read, to explore the facets that everybody disregarded. I wanted her to question but at the end of the day, I guess the small dying shred of humanity that I still retained prevented me from doing so. It was unfair, to say the least. For both of us.
It felt good when I put a stop to the whole thing and not because I gain a sadistic pleasure from making her cry (Well, maybe just a little). It's because I came to the realisation that a fucking relationship shouldn't take that much work. There shouldn't be manipulation and holding back and forcing myself to be mean for her 'benefit'. I mean that shit was pathological. In putting a stop to the whole fiasco; not avoiding the issue but a full on civil confrontation, I managed to free myself of the chains cast on by her fictional image.
I only hope that she gained some sort of benefit, as I did. Well. A man may dream.
Family.
Man, 2013 was a fucking revelation when it came to family matters.
I used to loathe my Mom's side of the family. In recent years, I began to realise that I had no basis for that feeling and so I tried to search for a cause. It finally made sense last year and it sucks because it showed how fucking flawed I am.
I loathed them because I was indoctrinated. It's a bitter pill to swallow but the truth is that my Dad's side of the family consists of elitist snobs who gossip about the flaws of others, not giving a flying fuck about their own while somehow managing to be incredibly racist at the same time. And to be honest, that's putting it mildly. I grew up spending most of my time with my Dad's side and I'm ashamed to say that it rubbed off on me. I never saw my Mom's side of the family as something worthy of attention until a few years ago and to date, that is my biggest regret.
Maybe it's because I learnt to weigh the odds myself and draw my own fucking conclusions. I don't know but I saw so many things that I hated going on when it came to dealing with my Dad's side. The petty arguments, the passive aggressiveness (Now I know where I got that from), the over dramatisation of every single fucking thing, the superiority complex, the crazy amount of materialism and the worst: The fucking racism. I cannot, even in a hundred years of hermit level meditation, fathom how we, a family of so much mixed blood could be so god damned racist. The one thing that I am so thankful for is that I did not inherit that gene. I look at my Dad sometimes and I wonder how he escaped that infernal circle.
Then there's that illusion of being a close knit family. Once I look past the immediate family, all I see is strife. The elder generation preaches non stop about the importance of being close and all that jizz but looking at their status with each other, it's a wonder we cousins haven't gone on a crusade with each other yet.
I look at my Mom's side of the family and it's the polar opposite. I'm not saying that there aren't any problems, hell, I'll die before I can list them all but on a basal level, it's so pleasant. Here is this massive family that on a superficial level, seem to operate on chaos alone but under observation, I saw things that deserve a fucking standing ovation. They face their problems head on, in the most literal manner possible. They don't take an issue and sweep it under the fucking 5000 dollar carpet, they yell it out from the top of a fucking mountain. They make jokes about it, crass, crass jokes and they insult each other to the face. There is no silent 'We won't talk about it because it'll depress everyone'. It's just total fucking exposure and the ferocity in which they defend each other... That's bloody admirable.
I enjoy being with my Mom's family nowadays. There's so much less bullshit that I need to manoeuvre around. At the same time, I guess I don't despise my Dad's side. What would that make me if I just go on continuing the bloody cycle?
Life.
I've lost the will to write. Might continue later. Might not. Laziness prevail. I had some good shit that I wanted to think about but it's gone now.
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